


Throttle Back

by Futago (Jumelles_Futago)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Minor Violence, Oh god what to tag..., Pre-Relationship, i guess??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 16:58:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6618802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jumelles_Futago/pseuds/Futago
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something has to be done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Throttle Back

Drift watched them talk back and forth, saying how they should do this and that– but neither of them had been successful in getting through to the scientist.

Perceptor. The mech's name was Perceptor– the mech he saved.

The green lug, Springer, tried to push his way pass the smaller teal mech, Kup, raising his voice and shouting something about carrying on too long. Drift was only half listening, finding the group's movements more telling than what was being said. 

Springer was pushed back by Kup, snapping something low and commanding that got their Captain to stop. The tape deck spoke up then, reaching for the door controls, probably going to go in and try again. But Kup stopped him too, gentler than Springer, and took a long drag from his cygar. That's when Drift's presence was acknowledged by the huddle. He could feel their optics, pair by pair, focus on him. Drift regarded them evenly.

Kup exvented and then made a move towards the far removed swords-mech, stopping a distance in front of him. Drift stood up out of respect; tilting his helm down to keep their optics locked– one of the only mechs on this ship he was taller than.

"Talk to him." Kup said, but not as a request.

Drift's optics flicked briefly to the group behind him– to Springer behind him. He wasn't happy. But because it was _Kup_ and not someone else, much like it was Kup's blessing that let him onto the ship, was the only reason Springer was going to let him walk through that door.

Looking back at the older mech, Drift gave him a nod, an acknowledgement to his order. What he, a stranger among them, could do that the others hadn't already tried, he didn't know. But Kup 'requested', so he strode through the crowd and up to the door, entering.

Fumes that were muted on the other side were thick and pungent, and Drift had to make some changes in his ventilation to bare being in the room. Unlike the scientist, who worked unfased by it, seemingly ignorant of anyone's entrance.

No, that was incorrect. Perceptor was very attentive, Drift could see by his plating and face that Perceptor had noticed him right away– which was remarkable because he'd been working non-stop for days. It was an enormous amount of stress on his processor: the meticulous work in his hands and to still be attuned to his surroundings. From what he had gathered from the rest of the crew, Perceptor was in here making more modifications to himself and his weapons. The lab was a mess of parts and halved machines. A part of a wall had become a test firing range, scorch marks and holes shredding the surface.

Drift stood back a bit and took it all in, trying to figure out what his next move should be. Talking didn't work for the others, and with good reason. All of _this_ screamed Perceptor didn't want to talk, although Drift was not as sure now that's what Kup had intended.

Drift locked the door.

The chime and click from the console made Perceptor pause for a moment, but nothing more. Drift was actually surprised that the door wasn't being banged on since they all could see on the outside the console turning locked-red, but it was most likely blast proof. And there was Kup. 

He approached the scientist with slow, sure strides. Perceptor, while still working, seemed to zero in on him, the intensity of his scrutiny making his movements less effective, twitchy even. That ache from the tiredness in his frame was no doubt pushing to the forefront, with his attention being split to both Drift and the part in his servos. Perceptor would have to chose one of the two if he wanted to keep working, and Drift waited until he made the mistake of returning back to the part.

Drift lunged at him then, reaching for the junction of where his forearm met servo, squeezing his fingers in and pressing into the delicate mechanics. The crimping got the scientist to release the item in his hand, but Perceptor was too shocked in that moment to put up a fight. His overtaxed processor was struggling to understand that he was being assaulted. Once it did, everything switched in a rush over to his battle computer and he started thrashing. His vocalizer gave a whine at the pain in his wrist joint before it could be stopped; his main focus being on trying to yank free and swipe at Drift.

Perceptor's unheld hand managed to smack his shoulder with quite some force, but he wrestled his captured servo behind his back, twisting it as hard as he dared. Drift didn't expect this attempt at fighting back to last long; a few moments of struggle, maybe, and he would wear him out. 

Reflexively Perceptor bent from the twist, leaning heavily against Drift who grabbed quickly at the other arm when Perceptor swiped at him again. As soon a Drift got ahold of it, wrapping it around his front, he tried to instead push against the shorter mech with his legs. They took three struggled steps back before the burst of energy just disappeared from his limbs.

Still trying to counter Perceptor's attemts to break free, Drift's strength slammed them forward into the table, making Perceptor grunt. He held them both there for a moment to hammer home that this little display of retaliation was over, watching the gusts from the scientist's vents pushing small shavings, slowly pitter out to shallow draws. The well being of the part Perceptor had been working on wasn't as important as getting the mech to throttle back.

When the fight seemed to leave him, Drift eased his arm from his back, making sure he had a good grip around him before pulling him off the table. Perceptor strained weakly against him, but once his feet started to drag out in front of him, and his messy work station moved farther and farther away, he relaxed once more.

The ex-con pulled him until the wall met his back and sat them both down against it as gracefully as Perceptor's extra weight could allow him. Only then did the tight hold on Perceptor shift to something slightly more comfortable for them both. His red frame was hot, vibrating from overworked systems under white and black hands. He was practically sizzling, how he managed to continue on like this was, in some part, to be applauded. Drift could admire that kind of stamina under the right situation.

They sat in silence, Drift not inclined to speak and Perceptor not wanting or needing to. Drift wasn't going to apologize or explain himself, and Perceptor, for their short time they had known each other, wasn't asking for either.

It took a while, but after some time Perceptor finally dropped into recharge, Drift's solid frame behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, this was not the fic I had planned to post this month, but I'm in desperate need of Drift/Percy fics so here this is. I surprised myself and actually wrote this in a few hours! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY UNFINISHED FICS OF THESE TWO I HAVE? Over 10 TxT


End file.
